


Atropa Belladonna

by TheSkyLarkin



Series: The Gap in the Doorway AU [4]
Category: Ni no Kuni II: Revenant Kingdom (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt No Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Whump, FebuWhump2021, Gaslighting, Gen, Mentioned Doloran (Ni No Kuni), Mentioned Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Mentioned Ratja (Ni No Kuni), Mentioned Roland Crane, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSkyLarkin/pseuds/TheSkyLarkin
Summary: The Gap in the Doorway AU: The corruption of the Chancellor turned King of Ding Dong Dell is a slow but steady process, much like the death of his predecessor. But Vermine’s patience is only matched by the depth of his ambition and sense of conviction. Mostly takes place before the events of the main story. Spoilers for the main game.Challenge: FebuWhump 2021Prompts: Day 7 - PoisoningDay 20 - BetrayalSee endnotes for comprehensive warnings/tags
Relationships: Leonhard Tildrum & Otto Mausinger, Otto Mausinger & Chancellor Vermine (Ni No Kuni)
Series: The Gap in the Doorway AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946533
Kudos: 3





	Atropa Belladonna

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to incredulousanteater ([Tumblr](https://incredulousanteater.tumblr.com)/[Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incredulousanteater)) and [a-cup-of-unrealitea](https://a-cup-of-unrealitea.tumblr.com/)/[sageandfoolishwisdom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageandfoolishwisdom/pseuds/sageandfoolishwisdom) for beta reading!

It starts with one drop of poison. One experimental tug of the proverbial beast’s tail, one seedling of doubt finding fertile ground within an open mind, one whisper of a thought instilled.

“Otto? Tell me the truth,” he asks of Mausinger one night as the candles on his desk burn down to the wicks while the two of them slowly whittle down the massive stacks of parchment that need the Chancellor’s signature.. “Do you truly believe in your heart that King Leonhard has the best of intentions for mousekind?” The Advisor to the Chancellor—just under a year of employment in his current position—keeps his gaze fixed on the window, as if merely voicing a stray thought that has just popped into his head at random in the small hours of the night, nothing more. In truth, he is watching Mausinger’s reflection in the darkened glass as the Chancellor looks up, utterly perplexed at the sudden question.

“...what exactly are you trying to imply, _Advisor_ Vermine?” Mausinger asks warily. “You know that none of the past grimalkin kings of Ding Dong Dell have ever even attempted to bring about peace between our two species. Mousekind has suffered unspeakable cruelties for centuries; it was only until King Leonhard took the throne that our kind was even allowed into the castle as anything more than prisoners.”

“Of course I know that,” Vermine replies carefully, studying Mausinger’s face in the reflection for the most subtle change in his expression. This beginning phase is tricky; one wrong word can cause Vermine to lose Mausinger’s trust and derail his careful plans. “If it weren’t for King Leonhard’s generosity, neither of us would have our current positions within his court, and for that I am appropriately grateful.” How tragic—the Chancellor has mistaken tolerance for kindness, an all too common mistake for him it seems. 

“However, are the king’s actions in that regard merely the result of altruism and a sense of guilt over the actions of his predecessors?” For full dramatic effect, Vermine spins around in his chair to look the Chancellor dead in the eyes, expression set in stony seriousness. “Or does he have some ulterior motive for naming you his Chancellor? Outside of your considerable skills as a diplomat, of course,” he adds quickly before Mausinger can protest. “There is no one else in Ding Dong Dell more qualified or more deserving of your current position than you, this much is certain.”

“Even so, to name a _mouse_ to such an elevated position in his court was certainly a testament to King Leonhard’s commitment to species equality. Then again, putting you in your current office just to send a message to the rest of the kingdom rather diminishes your significant achievements as a celebrated advocate for the rights of mousekind, don’t you think?”

Mausinger recoils slightly, clearly thrown off by both Vermine’s words and his uncharacteristic serious-mindedness. (This is a clear sign that even after all of the years they have known each other, Otto still does not respect him enough to have seen through his buffoonish facade. No matter, a pawn who merely fancies himself a bishop is still just a pawn.) And yet the Chancellor makes no effort to stop Vermine, so the Advisor continues on.

“And what about the rest of our people who are not as fortunate as us? True, mousekind may not be under the proverbial heel of the grimalkin anymore, but our species is nowhere near equal to them—or even to the humans of this kingdom. The king might be able to outlaw discrimination against mousekind, but his decrees cannot change the hearts of those in Ding Dong Dell who are still prejudiced against us. And King Leonhard’s efforts on that particular subject are—while certainly well-intentioned—rather lacking in tangible results, wouldn’t you say?”

“You can’t expect an entire society to change their ways so quickly and so easily, Vermine,” Mausinger replies. He’s a natural born diplomat—promising the world and committing to nothing in so many words. “It will take time for the grimalkin and mousekind to put our mutual bad blood between us and move towards a peaceful future.”

Nevertheless, there is a flicker of doubt in Mausinger’s eyes. It is nothing more than a mere spark, but with the proper kindling sometimes that is all it takes to get an inferno going. The words that Mausinger speaks are not his own; they sound much closer to royalist propaganda rather than those of a staunch advocate for mousekind. But there must be some part of the Chancellor, however small it may be, that still deeply doubts the promises of their ancestral oppressors. Vermine takes this as license to keep going.

“Speaking of the future, there is of course the matter of Leonhard’s successor. Prince Evan is still a child yet, but suppose he grows up and does not share his father’s aspirations for peace between the species of Ding Dong Dell? After all, it could be argued that King Leonhard may have only begun to care about the species divide when he chose a human woman to be his queen. As the late Queen Felicity has long since passed, there is no guarantee that her offspring will feel the same way. Suppose Prince Evan should grow up and decide to pursue the same path of grimalkin supremacy as his ancestors—save for his father—did. What would you—as a mere advisor to the crown since your office only has power while you have the favor of the king—be able to do to help our people?”

With this question hanging in the air like the blade of an executioner, Vermine leans in for emphasis. “Can you truly say that you would be able to sit back and let such a ruler ruin all of the progress towards lifting up mousekind that you have dedicated your life to achieving, just because he was entitled to the throne by mere birthright?”

A heavy silence fills the room for a few moments. “I believe,” Mausinger finally replies, slowly and deliberately as he gently but firmly pushes Vermine back into his seat, “we ought to halt this conversation and get back to work if we are to finish our current task by morning, Advisor Vermine.”

“Of course, My Lord.” With a polite dip of his head, Vermine turns back to the stacks of parchment and the rest of the evening passes in silence, with the only brief snippets of conversation between them focused solely on the documents in front of them. But when Vermine discreetly looks up to watch Mausinger as he is engrossed in his work, he finds the Chancellor wearing a pensive (though not outwardly hostile) frown, tapping the side of his desk with his paw absentmindedly as he mulls over Vermine’s words.

It starts with one drop of poison, the most miniscule amount to test if the target will be able to tell that their drink has been tampered with. Now Vermine must wait for Mausinger’s initial suspicions to pass before administering another dose.

* * *

In the weeks afterward, the drops of poison build up into a slow, steady trickle.

A plethora of interesting documents from the depths of the castle archives somehow find their way to Mausinger’s desk. Reports of various hate crimes against mousefolk, the yearly tax brackets of the kingdom putting real numbers to the disparity between the mouse citizens of Ding Dong Dell and everyone else, the sordid details of how past attempted uprisings by the mice—who were merely fighting for their right to live in peace—were put down in systematic and brutally violent fashions, that sort of thing. All of them reinforce the uncomfortable truth that Vermine has long accepted but Mausinger is afraid to face: the dream of social change through peaceful means is just that, nothing but a fanciful dream.

Vermine knows the Chancellor will read them without question; he reads every missive that circulates through the castle, no matter how banal it may be. But he still can’t be sure that Mausinger will read all of them, especially since he is being hounded at all hours of the day by the other ministers of the king, who come to complain about important letters going missing or significant errors in accounts. The Chancellor handles them all with an impressive amount of composure and politeness, but Vermine can tell that his patience is wearing thin. With the exception of Mausinger, the rest of King Leonhard’s court are grimalkin of noble birth, who had thrown a magnificent hissy fit at their king’s decision to select a _Mouse_ (even one from such a reputable family) as his Chancellor. They have never respected him and have never been shy about making sure Mausinger understands this (as long as the king’s back is turned, of course).

“You know they’re only blaming you for their mistakes because they’d never _dare_ to criticize another grimalkin of noble blood. Or admit to their own many faults, Gods forbid,” Vermine remarks sardonically as the latest minister flounces out of the chamber with a parting snarl. Mausinger lets out a quiet huff of frustration in agreement, not even bothering to chide the Advisor for his pithy comment anymore. His veneer of politeness is slipping away as the resentment seeps in, just as Vermine has predicted it would.

At this point, Vermine no longer has to arrange for any more deliberate shows of the disregard that the rest of the castle staff holds towards them and mousefolk at large. The sheer reality of their situation—and that of mousekind as a whole—itself will serve as a constant reminder to Mausinger of the deep inequality that still plagues the kingdom. Even the token actions that King Leonhard takes to remedy this divide will not cure the toxic rot of hatred that festers at the heart of Ding Dong Dell.

(It certainly does not help that the king is ineffective at implementing these actions due to the meddling of his ministers, informed of these foolish attempts to forward his radical agenda of species equality by an anonymous source. In Vermine’s humble opinion, this is an indictment of the state of Leonhard’s court—rather than of his own actions—as a better leader wouldn’t be surrounded by such disloyal followers.)

As long as he remains successful in keeping a certain chambermaid away from the Chancellor, Vermine will have no problems convincing Mausinger of the king’s ineffectiveness at acting as the great uniter that he and Mausinger so desperately want him to be. Not that (in Vermine’s opinion) Mausinger would do a better job, which is why he will not be the one to sit upon the throne when all is said and done. No grimalkin or grimalkin supporters will ever give mousekind the wealth and power they deserve after centuries of oppression. It’s a gruesome task, but it must be done and Vermine will have to be the one to do it.

But first he must convince Mausinger to depose the current ruler himself. Or at least make him think that plotting Leonhard’s death was his own idea, which won’t be too difficult now that Mausinger has swallowed even more of his toxic ideas without suspecting a thing. By the time that he’s through with him, Vermine will have Mausinger drinking from the cup full of poison of his own volition.

* * *

Drop by drop, the poisonous animosity is building up within Mausinger. After a few more terse misunderstandings between him and King Leonhard (noble as the two of them may be, they are both rather prideful as well; all the more convenient for Vermine’s plans as this makes it all too easy to provoke such baseless misconceptions) a note is slipped in between the pages of Vermine’s ledger telling him to head into the Old Well at midnight. It’s not the coziest meeting place, but the kingdom’s old sewer system is clandestine enough—the guards would not bother to waste valuable Prying Eyes on surveillance of the abandoned gutters.

But it’s more likely that Mausinger’s choice of location has been picked for the symbolism, and Vermine waits with bated breath at the appointed meeting spot because he understands the poetic irony. The Old Well is said to be the dwelling place of the Rat-King, a vengeful Old God who was said to answer the desperate pleas and prayers of mousefolk oppressed by the grimalkin. Mausinger had always turned his nose up at the implications of that story, but that was before Vermine began his relentless campaign to make the Chancellor see his point of view.

As Mausinger emerges from the shadows, eyes glowing from the reflection of the moonbeams seeping through the cracks in the dilapidated ceiling, he certainly looks the part of a vengeful Rat-King. “Renat[[1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580771#note1)],” Mausinger addresses the Advisor by his first name, and that’s how Vermine knows that the toxin has finally sunken in, “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night and have come to a similar conclusion. Ding Dong Dell will never allow true species equality if that means the grimalkin must give up some of their wealth and power. And if King Leonhard cannot see this, then there is no hope for any of his direct successors to grasp this either.”

Vermine has to restrain himself from letting out a gleeful squeak. “So, what do you propose we do about it, my Lord? An open revolution would not go well for us; mousekind is vastly outmatched and outnumbered by the grimalkin, and the humans would surely side with the ruling class over us…”

“No, we’ll have to be much craftier about it than that if we don’t want our people to suffer great losses,” Mausinger muses. (Even when plotting a bloody coup, he still thinks of such extraneous things as minimising casualties. It’s enough to make Vermine want to tear his whiskers out.) “Leonhard’s death needs to look like an accident or the rest of his court will get suspicious.”

“But how would we accomplish that?” Vermine asks. “The knights and the court sorcerers are much too vigilant for a direct assault…” He has several ideas of his own, but Mausinger needs to come up with the means of murder himself, as to solidify the idea within his mind that he came up with the entire treasonous plot all on his own.

Silence fills the Old Well as they consider (or pretend to consider) their options. At last Mausinger lets out a sharp gasp. “The royal food taster is due to retire at the end of the week,” he states conspiratorially. (Oh, she had better be; it was no easy feat for Vermine to track down her family in the country and blackmail her into changing careers without arousing suspicion. He even had to ask for outside help at one point.) “If someone sympathetic to our cause were to be appointed to that position, we could easily sneak poison into the king’s food and drink without anyone being the wiser. There is a flower colloquially known as duskshadow or witch’s bells, the toxins of which will be fatal unless someone can build up a tolerance to it by consuming miniscule amounts of it at a time. But if someone were to consume too much of this poison over a long period of time….”

“...then it would look like a mysterious illness rather than poisoning because the royal food taster would be right as rain! Brilliant, my Lord, utterly brilliant!” Vermine gasps, clasping his paws in delight. What an ironic method of death Mausinger has chosen, utterly ignorant of the same method being employed upon him at the same time.

“While the king languishes in a diminished state, we will have the time to plot out how to get all of the grimalkin out of the way in order for us to seize power after Leonhard’s demise,” Mausinger continues. “Once the prince and the other castle ministers are taken care of, then all obstacles to the crown are clear. And then…” Here he trails off, uncertain.

“And the throne of Ding Dong Dell will be yours!” Vermine finishes for him. “Don’t even think of trying to argue!” he chides before Mausinger can protest. “There is no one more deserving of the throne than you, Otto. After all that you have done for mousekind as a species, you deserve nothing less.”

“Then you will be my Chancellor, Renat.” Mausinger gives him a grateful smile. “There’s no one I trust more for the job.”

‘ _And that’s why your reign will be eventful but tragically all too brief, my old friend,_ ’ Vermine thinks to himself as they head back to the castle.

* * *

The first drops of duskshadow extract make their way into the king’s system two weeks later. Mausinger and Vermine hold their breaths as King Leonhard summons them to the throne room just after his first meal in which their little “flavor enhancer” has been added. It takes all of their restraint not to let out a sigh of relief when the topic of his inquiry turns out to be something involving sending relief funds to the farmers in the south who are suffering through a famine. But before they take their leave, the king asks them to pass by the kitchens on their way back to the east wing of the castle and give his compliments to the chef for the exquisite fish supper.

At first, the two conspirators are worried that the dosage is too small and King Leonhard is just going to build up an intolerance to the poison instead! But bit by bit, the health of the robust king begins to worsen. He spends most of his time bedridden and unable to keep any food down (which worsens his health but makes it somewhat difficult to keep administering the poison). Healers from all corners of the world are summoned to Ding Dong Dell in a desperate attempt to cure what ails him. Mausinger splits his time between taking on the duties that the king is too ill to take on and making sure that the true source of Leonhard’s ailment remains hidden. Thus it falls to Vermine to plot out the finer details of the eventual coup upon the death of the king, an arrangement that works out all too well for him and his true goals.

“The castle healers predict that the king is due to pass away at any point within the next few days,” Vermine reports several months later to his… patron, who has helped open his eyes to what must be done in Ding Dong Dell. “Mausinger plans to depose the prince on the day of his coronation ceremony, which should take place about a month or so later. Once he has the crown, it won’t take too long for him and the people of Ding Dong Dell to turn against each other. Just a small taste of power is enough to corrupt the ideas of a noble heart.”

“Indeed,” Lord Doloran agrees in that deep booming voice of his. “As long as Mausinger is kept firmly in the dark about his role, I have no doubts that you shall succeed, Vermine.” But underneath the large golden mask fashioned into the image of a snake’s head, the human’s expression twists into an impatient frown.

“Patience, My Lord. You shall have your kingsbond,” says Vermine placatingly. The loss of the kingsbond of Ding Dong Dell does not factor into his plans, not when Lord Doloran plans to take all of the kingsbonds of the four great nations. The lack of a kingmaker poses no threat to him as long as none of the other world powers has one either, and Lord Doloran’s ultimate plans don’t seem as if they will impact his own. Vermine is sure that whatever poisonous intentions this human may have will not matter in the long run.

“And the throne of Ding Dong Dell will be yours,” replies the snake-headed man. “After all that you have done for me and for the sake of your people, you deserve nothing less.” Vermine knows in his heart that this is true and always has been, but it’s still nice to hear it spoken out loud. 

Eventually the sun sets on the reign of King Leonhard Auburnmane Tildrum. Mausinger and Vermine stand stone-faced as the king’s body is laid to rest in the stone mausoleum at the center of the Crypt-City of the Cat Kings along with the forefathers of the entire Tildrum dynasty. His worldly possessions lie in a small chest at the foot of the coffin (minus a certain diary, which has hopefully been “misplaced” by a disgruntled castle minister so that Mausinger can’t get his paws on it should he experience a moment of guilt and uncertainty later on). At the other end of the procession, Prince Evan clings to his governess, trembling in grief and anxiety as he realizes the burden that is about to pass to him.

But not if Mausinger and Vermine have anything to say about it. Prince Evan will have no need for a state funeral; he’ll be lucky to have his body thrown into a ditch by the side of the road once they have seized power. With the rest of the royal retainers focused on laying down the coffin of the king down beside his late wife, tears in their eyes, the two conspirators exchange steely looks. In a month, they will be standing by the throne of Ding Dong Dell that Mausinger will soon occupy (but not for very long) with the same impassive looks as everyone else present at this funeral is slaughtered mercilessly so that grimalkin supremacy may be stamped out forever. No tears, no guilt, no regrets.

It had to be done, after all.

* * *

“At last, this blasted farce can finally be over.” Doloran holds Mausinger’s Kingsbond aloft in his hand, freshly ripped from the ruler’s body, and Vermine no longer has to maintain his tiring charade. The soon-to-be-former Chancellor doesn’t even look down at the crumpled body of his former friend, gasping in pain from having a piece of his soul wrenched out of him, as he walks over to join the snake-headed man with not a shred of regret in his heart.

It had to be done, after all. Mausinger is far too weak to be the ruler that mousekind deserves if he can be deceived so easily in the end. Tildrum’s brat and his odd entourage seem shocked to see Vermine standing with their enemy, all except the dark-haired man whom Lord Doloran has ordered him not to kill under any circumstance. This is not surprising; his brief time with Roland Crane has left Vermine with the impression that the Chief Consul of Evermore is a kindred spirit in one regard—both of them have the necessary ruthlessness to rule that the current leaders of their respective kingdoms lack.

Speaking of unqualified leaders… “V-Vermine…?” Mausinger asks shakily as he slowly picks himself up from the floor, his expression a mosaic of shock and utter betrayal.

Vermine scoffs at the soon-to-be-former King’s apparent surprise that the mouse who was willing to plot the death and usurpation of the king… was willing to commit the same treasonous act once again. How foolish of him. After all, Vermine only prepared the cup of poison—it was Mausinger who drank deeply from it, swallowing the notions of hatred for a noble man without proof and without question. He has no one to blame for his actions but himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is appreciated!
> 
> Triggers/Warnings: Canon character death (mentioned), Manipulation, Gaslighting
> 
> 1 According to [Behind the Name](https://www.behindthename.com/name/renat), one of the meanings of Renat is an acronym of a phrase that means "revolution, science, labour", chosen by some Communist Russian parents. [ [return to text](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580771#return1) ]


End file.
